


The M Word

by veridium_bye



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: College of Enchanters, F/F, Marriage Proposal, Post Tresspasser, Val Royeaux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-24 11:58:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veridium_bye/pseuds/veridium_bye
Summary: A year after the Inquisition is disbanded officially, Cassandra and Olivia are making moves in their respective occupations whilst keeping their relationship intact. A disruption in understanding about what the future holds for them, however, causes friction.





	1. Uh, Marry Me?

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW Nudity and Foreplay!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to Olivia's place in Val Royeaux is mostly routine, except for when Cassandra lets a dream of hers slip in the middle of pillow talk. The discussion that ensues is one of emotion and defensiveness, and Olivia sticks by her beliefs for herself even when Cassandra begs her to reconsider her opinions. Compromise doesn't always mean everyone gets what they want.

The mornings in Olivia’s apartments were always warm and lavish in comparison to waking up in the Seekers’ mountain fortress, though it came with a certain degree of formality Cassandra could go without. Locked away in her lover’s bedchambers, though, she could pretend they were somewhere foreign, a paradise far away from the Capitol of the Empire. Then, it would be completely perfect.

They had awoken that morning as they always did when they could fall asleep in the same bed together: limbs entangled, hair tousled and slightly sweaty from the night before. Olivia was the first to rustle herself out of bed, her loose-fitting white linen night dress sliding off her shoulder as she yawned. When her lover was in town, business and duties slowed down almost to a halt; to be sure, she had many trusted colleagues at the College whom she could rely upon to pick up where she had left off. Cassandra’s visits were uncommon enough to demand such a thing.

Cassandra watched her with sleep-laced eyes, watching her rise and stretch upwards with her arms towards the ceiling. Her golden, long hair frizzy from a night of anything but gentle sleep. She grinned lightly, watching her hips sway as she made her way towards a table with a pitcher of water and chalices at the ready. It never got old, seeing her like this: comfortable, confident, and vulnerable at the same time.

“You think you can just walk out of bed like that, and not send my heart racing to awake me?” Cassandra pulled herself up a bit, tucking her elbows underneath her.

From across the bedroom, Olivia chuckled as she held her chalice to her lips and turned to face her woman in bed. “Silly me, I thought you would want to rest after the night we had. I forget you spend all your time in the Mountains training to be in proper shape.”

Cassandra shook her head. “That, among other things.”

When it was Cassandra visiting Olivia and not the other way around, the first evenings were almost always spent with dinner in her home, followed by a long walk around the Capitol streets, arm-in-arm, whilst they discussed almost every matter under the sun from personal qualms, to sociopolitical views. Letters were one thing, but when they could be face-to-face to engage in discourse, they took every spare minute they could to pick each other’s brains. Often, it was Olivia giving her insight from being closer to the Capitol, and listening in during meetings amongst the fellow College Enchanters. Then, Cassandra would give the issue context, from her days as the Right Hand of the Divine and Seeker to the Chantry. Olivia would put up a fight, insisting that not everything must remain the same – then, Cassandra would remind her that history informs the future.

A few sarcastic words, followed by a grab on the hand, cheek, or somewhere else, convinced whoever remained intemperate to agree to a truce.

As she sauntered her way back to the side of the bed, knowing full-well how enticing she looked as she did so, Olivia couldn’t help but smile. These occasions were rare, but they were invigorating.

“I suppose you must demand that I stay in bed with you all day long, as penance,” she teased, handing her chalice that remained half-full to Cassandra so that she may also quench her thirst. Cassandra held the cup to her mouth, taking a quick sip, before setting it off on the bedside table.

“Not at all. I would love to see you try to get on with an entire day of work whilst I await you. It would be a first.”

“Agh, you are so cocky,” Olivia’s nose scrunched, and she quickly grabbed and tossed a spare pillow at her. Cassandra smirked as she caught the ammo in up against her bare chest.

“I thought you had business to attend to in the Capitol, anyhow,” Olivia finished, crawling onto the bed and sitting on her folded legs beside her woman.

“Yes, but the temptation to provoke your temper is too much to ignore sometimes.”

Cassandra was reminded of her affairs that must be resolved in Val Royeaux, and the idea refilled her chest with nauseated dread. She had come to see Leliana, now long-coronated Divine Victoria, in person for some concerns regarding their countermeasures for the war between the Qunari and Tevinter. That, and the threat of Solas’s uprising that the Inquisitor remained fixated on ever since the Exalted Council. While seeing an old friend and ally was appealing to her, enduring the pomp and energies of Val Royeaux was not – but, the Divine had taken care to stay a few extra days before traveling so that they could meet. She owed it to her to keep her end of the bargain.

Olivia watched as Cassandra rubbed her face, knowing she would remain steadfast to her schedule, and thus could not expect Olivia to stand by and be her companion throughout it all.

“You’re very ravishing when you’re called out on your bluff, you know that, right?” she commented, tucking her knee in against her chest and hugging it with both arms. With an endearing smile, she rest her chin on the top of it.

“Hm,” Cassandra chuckled lightly under her breath, “I can dream, can’t I?”

“Yes, but you had the whole night to do so. Now, we must be awake and present.”

“If it was one thing I did not do last night with you, my Love, it was sleep so deeply that I could dream.”

“That may be true,” Olivia crawled on her hands then and swung a leg around to straddle Cassandra’s waist, “but why bother when what you’re doing is better than any dream could hope to be?” she bit her lip in an act of untired flirtation.

Cassandra smiled, letting her hands rest on the sides of Olivia’s thighs, slipping her grip underneath the loose fabric of her night dress. “You Orleisians and your flare for turning every presumed loss into a gain astounds me to no end.”

“Ha! It is an artform, surely. Just as other things are,” Olivia reached a hand to collect her hair over her head and down along her shoulder, before she then used it to reach back behind her position, between Cassandra’s upper-inner thigh. Feeling her generous hand, Cassandra’s thigh bent upwards a bit, and she raised a curious brow.

Unsatiated by it, she slid her arms up Olivia’s legs and onto her sides, gripping fast and strong as she rolled her lover up off of her and onto her back. In a breath, she was leaning over her, smiling at the sound of Olivia’s laughter. She paused for a moment to take all of her in: the way her hair looked bunched around her shoulders, her arms laying above her head, her eyes shining with the joy of the moment in full bloom. The way her body felt endlessly trusting of her hold, as if she could bend and break her with full authority.

“You have subdued me once again,” She tucked her hand underneath Cassandra’s chin, her thumb resting on the center of it, as she grinned back at her.

Cassandra smirked, her mouth closing in on Olivia’s. “Hardly. I’m just biding my time until you prove victorious.”

“A fool’s gambit, in my bed? Cassandra Pentaghast, have I not taught you anything about me or my standards in love and combat?”

Cassandra had her lips almost to hers when her scolding evoked a most sincere and humble laughter. She hid her face in Olivia’s shoulder as she tried to contain it, but it was futile. She felt Olivia’s hand take hold of her upper arm as she embraced her, and it made her feel a bit safer to be silly.

“Forgive me, my Lady,” Cassandra composed herself, the melodic tone in her voice lingering from her laughter, “I will take care not to miscalculate your generosity again.”

“Good – now, make me scream loud enough to scare all who live nearby, or else I will be forced to seek pleasurable company elsewhere.” Olivia discretely arched her back upwards into Cassandra’s hold, the flimsiness of her dress never more pronounced.

At her audacious command, Cassandra reached a hand and began pulling the hem of the dress up, gathering it at Olivia’s hips, exposing where she wanted to go. “You talk boldly, for someone who needs no less than minutes to do so.”

“If it’s such a breeze, why are you stalling?” Olivia kept her eyes locked on hers as she felt the cold air dance up her body, her night dress feeling like a distant memory already. She then leaned up and put her lips to Cassandra’s neck, kissing hungrily and with no sense of “easing in.”

Cassandra was promptly distracted from her advance, and she left out a moan-laced exhale.

With a most captivated breath, she responded.

“Marry me.”

Olivia's body froze, and Cassandra could feel the sudden rigidity of her body underneath her. Opening her eyes, she realized then that she had been inadvertently seduced into divulging something she had been thinking about for months, but never quite had the gumption to bring up. Their lives had been whirlwinds of change and responsibility, and every time the thought process was catalyzed in her mind, she had convinced herself it was nothing but a romantic heart's whimsical nature. Now that she had spoken it into the air, and with Olivia present, she knew it was more than that. 

Olivia pulled away, laying her head back down on the pillow. Her brows were furrowed, framing an expression of confusion. "What?"

Cassandra loosened her grip on her, and closed her eyes. She was feeling the embarrassment well in her stomach. 

"I meant...well, I..." Feeling Olivia's eyes on her, she cracked. "Forgive me, I was engrossed in the moment." Surrendering to her own mistake, she broke away from Olivia's embrace, and rolled back onto her designated side of the bed. Methodically, she rose to her feet, making her way over to where her clothes had been strewn across the floor. She didn't care if they were dirty, she needed to recover and move on from this moment if it killed her. 

From the bed, Olivia watched as the woman she had eating out of her proverbial hand suddenly whisked herself out of her hold and out of bed. It was happening so fast and without any sense, something she didn't expect from Cassandra of all people. 

"Cassandra," she said, rising to sit on her folded legs again, adjusting the disheveled nature of her night dress, "are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure," Cassandra grumbled back as she slipped into her small clothes. "It was the romanticism of a foolish woman, tired and spread thin."

"Love, you would lie to me, here, with no witnesses and no reason to?" Olivia reckoned with her, crawling towards the edge of the bed so that she, too, could stand on her own feet. 

Cassandra kept herself turned away from her as she felt her encroaching on her reclaimed space. The butterflies in her stomach were seeming to soar with reckless abandon, knowing that she wasn't going to get out of this one as easily as she wished. Olivia was never one to have the wool pulled over her eyes -- just because she was sweet, didn't mean she was daft. Cassandra of all people understood such truths, even as she wished to cover her ass.

"I..." she stopped what she was doing, holding her coat in her busied hands, "I am really in no mood to be teased or interrogated. I am quite...tired," she struggled to compose herself. Olivia at last arrived at her side, and she rest her hand on Cassandra's stiff forearm, beckoning her to slow her road a little. 

"My darling," Olivia put her other hand to Cassandra's face, inviting her to look back at her finally. "Don't turn from me. Please, I could not bear it."

In her golden irises, Cassandra saw the essence of Olivia's spirit: her kindness and openness, and it enticed her to bear her soul. 

"Olivia, I..." her gaze flickered down to the coat she held in her hand. She reached and set it down on the nearby table, before turning her full attention to her lover. Her hands collected Olivia's, and she held them between their bodies. "I know you are not one for such things, especially given your upbringing. You know me, I am a traditionalist, and a romantic. I have fantasized beyond the reality of our relationship past the point I should have, without consulting with you. However, I...I cannot lie and say I do not wish it."

Olivia listened to her, taking care not to let any one extreme emotion show on her face. She understood the brevity of Cassandra's vulnerability enough to stave off a reaction whilst she opened her heart. 

"I...I admit I am taken aback," she began, looking off to the side for a moment whilst she collected her thoughts. "I suppose I just assumed you would not conceive of such a thing given who I am, and what I do."

Cassandra shook her head. "My Love, there is nothing about you that would deter me from wanting to be unified with you forever."

"No? So, you would conjoin you soul to that of a Mage, a Mage known for her radical politics, a Mage who cannot promise such things as to be your homemaker, your live-in wife, whilst you take on the world's evils?" Olivia's lips remained parted as she maintained eye contact with her. Her qualms were sincere, and they exposed the truth of Olivia's heart: she had contemplated such futurities, contrary to her staunch opinions on marriage and family goals. That inkling of incongruity gave Cassandra some hope.

Cassandra couldn't resist being endeared by Olivia's words. "You think I fell for you because I saw the potential in you to be any of those things? Olivia, have you met yourself?"

"Well, I have, actually, which is why I am concerned as to your request. You have to admit it is quite an unbelievable jump. You are considered one of the most solemn, devout women across the Empires. Your name is fast becoming legend. Surely, such a stature would require the subordination of a spouse."

Cassandra's brow furrowed, hearing her reputation and heroism be invoked in order to justify Olivia's hesitance. It was quite unlike the woman she loved to be intimidated by political clout. 

"And you, Olivia? A veteran of the Mage Rebellion, Temptress-turned-Scholar, and one of the first head Mistresses within the hierarchy of the College of Enchanters? Best friend and ally to the Lady Inquisitor? Am I to assume all of this is just child's play or rumor?"

"You know what I meant, Cassandra. Or, should I also mention, your Highness, Princess of Nevarra?"

"Ugh, do not start with that," Cassandra rolled her eyes, stepping back.

Olivia watched her posture change and knew immediately that an argument was on the wings depending on how she conducted her next few steps. Cassandra's heritage and family were always ample kindling for conflict. Adding some space, she stepped back as well, starting to pace the floor with her arms lightly folding against her chest. 

"I'm just timid about the whole thing, is all. I apologize," Olivia curtailed her own stubborn temper. "I just worry that it will change the way we are now. The way we have always been. There is nothing I would change about us: we are leading the lives in accordance with our skills and duties to Thedas, to our own virtues. Marriage is....marriage is a consumption of time and resources. It changes things."

Cassandra leaned onto one hip as she watched her woman pace, both physically and mentally. 

"The reason why I wish to marry you is precisely because of that, my Love. I want to have this, to have you, for the rest of my days. Marriage is not always a prison, or a social contract for the pompous nobility to continue accruing gross amounts of wealth for trivial tastes. It can be a wonderful, spiritual act. I want to share that with you, and share my life with you."

"There is no reason why we cannot share our lives together as they are. Marriage is superficial in nature, it cannot possibly speak to the depth and complexity of a true bond. It was conceived of and perpetuated by a society and not a spiritual imagination, Cassandra. I know, I was groomed for it since I was able to walk and talk."

"Surely, the woman I know you to be, with her ability to synthesize and understand multitudes of coexisting truths and possibilities, would not be resigned to such a gross oversimplification."

"I am a woman who has no patience for orchestrated contracts insisted under the guise of love, when love is anything but that which Marriage enforces."

"So what is love, then, if you have such a universal apprehension of it?" Cassandra's tone was fast becoming angrier, her ego and her faith both taking on bruising from Olivia's stubborn and curt argument. 

Olivia sighed roughly, running her hands through her tangled hair. The air from the balcony attached to her bedchamber allowing an uptick in wind consume the space between them. She felt the slight chill, and it graded on her already agitated nerves. She put her hand to her cheek and faced Cassandra once more. 

"You just don't understand. You don't understand how vital it is to me, to have the life I have wanted for myself -- the independence, the freedom to pursue my passions, and the security of having my own home -- and know that I accomplished it on my own. Marriage used to be the only way I thought I'd have any of this. Now, I am defying everything my childhood taught me. You would have me bend back and relapse into a doctrine that was responsible for my confinement and sheltered misery."

Cassandra felt her gut flip, then. Olivia had rarely opened up about what marriage and family meant to her, but when she did it was always a brush off or a light, humorous facade. Now, they were getting to the root of her true feelings, and suddenly she felt as though she had assumed too much.

"Olivia, it was never my intention to force you into contradicting your beliefs and your ambitions. As I said before, it was a fantasy that I fed for too long."

"But you felt it nonetheless, and you stifled it. I know that must have been because you felt unwelcome in expressing it."

"Yes, but, everyone feels that way. A proposal is not exactly a casual concern."

Olivia turned her back to her as she put her face in her hand. "Ugh, if only I had known. If only I could have just put two and two together and foreseen that you would be endeared by such things. Perhaps in my naive lovesick stupor I believed that you could want me and only me and be satisfied. Now I know the truth. There will always be a caveat to this, even if we are happy and pleasant together. You will always be halted a step before the place you want to be."

Cassandra could hear her spiraling in her mind's eye; the emotions in her voice were palpable. In an instant, her prerogative shifted from getting her way, to making Olivia feel calm again. At once she made her way to her, grabbing her shoulders from behind and gently gripping. She pulled Olivia back a half-step until she was up against her, and she put her mouth to the back of her head. She kissed her hair, not needing to know what her face looked like or the full truth of her feelings. 

"Olivia," she rubbed her arms slowly, "the only caveat to this is that if I lost you, marriage or no marriage, my spirit would break in half."

The room grew quiet. Olivia's heart was humbled, then, at her lover's admonition. Her nerves were scaling heights of possibilities and concerns before she even had the chance to come to a consensus with her: the thought of never making her truly happy, or being the woman that could suffice her dreams. Olivia was always on a tightrope in her mind, balancing all the goals and needs of herself and the people around her. Some things never changed, but evolved with higher stakes. 

Still, it was Cassandra's heartfelt and unbending devotion that called her back down from the dreadful limitlessness of her anxiety. She rolled her eyes closed and leaned back against her, signaling to Cassandra that she wasn't lost to her forever. 

"Cassandra, my Love," she turned to face her, which slightly surprised Cassandra, but she nonetheless welcomed her face again. She stared down at her in quiet, respectful expectation; her hands moving down to secure themselves around her waist. Olivia paused, taking a breath, before she continued her response:

"I would do unspeakable things for you. I would crack any formula, master any elixir or potion or explosive substance. I would find a way to defeat and obliterate darkspawn, demons, lyrium-infested creatures big and small. I would topple the entire Capitol down to rubble and ash. I would scour the ends of the Earth and all the Empires, leaving no sight unseen. I would find every last malevolent being in existence and with nothing but a dull blade and the feeble magic in my hands, I would fight them one after the other. I would storm any fortress or castle and have every last person and inch of it at the mercy of my wrath. I would smile in the face of death and demand a fight. There is nothing in this life that I would not do with the utmost cordiality and dedication. You have bound my blood and bones to you, and every inch of muscle and sinew in me relies upon your love like the shore is defined by the sea that crashes against it."

Cassandra listened to her, but her heart couldn't stop skipping beats. As if she was capable of such things, her eyes began tor redden with tears. Nothing, no book, no sonnet, no devotional from the Chantry's writings compared to the experience of hearing Olivia bear every aching inch of her heart for her. Such things made her believe in a higher power; such things convinced her that religion was just as much about love as it was piety. 

She let out a breath, and followed up with a succinct, bittersweet conclusion. "But...you will not be my wife."

Olivia pursed her lips, her eyes flickering between Cassandra's eyes and lips. Seeing the emotions in her eyes tore at her heart and will.

"If...if that is what you want, more than anything. If you truly wish it, I will do it."

Cassandra's stomach felt as though it had sank through the floor. Immediately, her eyes lit up with shock, and she looked up to see the hesitance in Olivia's face. Was that it? Was she convinced? Or was this her making the ultimate sacrifice of her scruples in order to see Cassandra happy? The Seeker was many things, but she was not insensitive to such things. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to ascertain the truth of her consent. If it could be called consent, for one. 

"Olivia, are you just saying that to please me?"

Olivia swallowed stiffly, but didn't blink. "I have just told you that nothing is impossible to me if it meant ensuring your safety and happiness. If marriage is your request in the face of that, to deny it would be a betrayal of my word."

"Olivia."

"No, I mean this. If this is something you truly desire, I will make it reality for you."

Cassandra stopped the tide of the concession before it could consume the entire conversation. At once, she put her hands on either side of Olivia's face, gently cupping her cheeks and jawline with the utmost fervor and passion in her body. 

"Olivia, you seem to forget that I am also invested in your happiness and security. It is my responsibility as your lover and partner to be invested in such things. I know I am stubborn and insistent with my wishes and opinions, but you should never for one minute of one day believe that they are more vital to me than your welfare. You forget that marriage has been enforced upon me as a way to legitimacy in life. I know of what you speak, and I know of what I have asked. But, if you think that I would contemplate forcing you into an arrangement that goes against all of who you are, then you have forgotten the promises I made to you as you have made to me. You are the love of my life, and no one could ever hope to hold a candle to you. I would rather have a day with you, with no wedding vow in sight, than a lifetime with anyone else."

A solitary tear fell from Olivia's eye as she looked at her, and in that moment she knew she had walked into the fire and survived. She had been ready to agree to it, if Cassandra would have pushed enough; though, it would not have been what she wanted, and it would have been a most heartbreaking betrayal of her trust. Knowing that Cassandra would not let her fall on the proverbial sword affirmed to her completely and totally that Cassandra was the one for her.

"Thank you," she said with a brittle tone.

Cassandra grinned, and touched her forehead to hers. It was a short-lived embrace, for as soon as she could think to do it, Olivia kissed her. She kissed her deeply, reverently, rejoicing in being accepted for who she was and what her limits were. 

If Marriage were ever an applicable reality to her life, Olivia knew she would never life to be tied to anyone but her. She had seen too many sham marriages built on wealth and stature to respect the idea or the word, her parents' union being one of them; but, this, this was deserving of her tireless dedication. This was the real thing, and she would never, ever let go.


	2. No, Really, Marry Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Cassandra and Olivia come to a rough agreement about the futurity of their relationship, the Seeker takes one final chance to win over Olivia. Her orchestrated surprise leaves Olivia awe-struck, but will it be enough to convince her that they can defy the traditional limitations of marriage?

These were the kinds of nights Olivia pretended she was back at Skyhold, merely an apothecary mage for the Inquisition dressed in cotton work dresses with knotted hair and dirtied hands. These nights, when she was holed up in her office and experiment quarters – a cozy string of rooms in the Enchanter’s College that were large, but not Palace worthy. It was the fifth hour of her being tucked away in her library nook in the corner of her main office chamber, sitting on the rug on the floor, books laid out around her as if she were a planet with orbiting moons of literature. Candles were lit and flickering tiredly in areas around her, on tables and chairs. Yes, the College could afford ample lighting in the form of torches and lanterns, but Olivia preferred quaint, simple strategies sometimes.

Also, maybe it reminded her of sore memories in the Circle, memories that she had long since reclaimed for the traces of joy they brought to her life even within so much trauma. Time did that to a woman: turn back to the blades at her back and kiss them with forgiveness.

She was hunched over her lap, reading a chapter for the third time. A hand rested on the back of her sore neck, rubbing slowly. She blinked a few times every few minutes. It didn’t take long for her to be known for her workaholic nature. Her lack of sleeping and diligence on her duties made up for the initial astonishment of such a young Mage being promoted to a leadership role. Several years after her appointment, only the shock she felt that the College was still intact out-measured the kind she felt for her success.

Now, she had more than enough to fill her ambitious plate. Between her role, her mentees, her discrete correspondences with Enchanter Vivienne who was off seeming to construct new institutions with her bare hands in lieu of the Enchanter’s College, as well as remaining connected with her friends who were all in some way, shape, or form involved in Theia’s efforts to stop another oncoming apocalypse, she had little to complain about in terms of outlets for her ambition.

But, in these long, winded nights of studying, she missed certain things --

Her friends stopping in, dirtied boots and hands, laughing about something ridiculous that happened in the Skyhold Courtyard. The way the Hall was warm and incandescent with goodness during supper. The mountain air liberating her lungs when she would step outside and take a break from her work. Most of all, being able to simply anchor herself out the window and see her woman practicing maneuvers, sparring, or discussing plans with the Inquisitor.

Such a life felt so far away now, and it was difficult to feel nostalgic for such a violent and uncertain time. As she found herself trying to read the same sentence for the fifth time, she knew it had sunk in again.

She closed her eyes and put her face in her hands. Maker, she thought, can I have one weightless night of existence?

From across the long room, in the open doorway between her office and the entryway to her wing of the College, a figure stepped forward and leaned against the side of the doorway arch. A most quietly eager individual, who had not wasted so much as a half hour in between arriving at the Capitol and riding her horse directly to the College. Still dressed in her traveling armor with the Seeker emblem on the breastplate, and a dark cape hanging from her shoulders. Her hair was still short, but there was a touch of grey beginning to show in sparse hairs surrounding her temples. She found what she was looking for – a blonde, precocious Mage, dressed in a sophisticated black gown that was both simple and tailored exquisitely. Her beautiful long hair tied back in a ponytail. The candlelight only illuminating certain parts of her, but her face was entirely golden from their adoration of her. It had been months since she had last seen her in person, and she had to keep herself from rushing over to her and taking her up in her arms. She stifled a chuckle as she heard Olivia groan and rub her face again, clearly at her wit’s end.

“After all this time, you have at last grown tired of my visits.”

As if struck by lightning in her soul, Olivia shot upright, her head turning and looking back at the doorway to see the dark figure. Unsatisfied, she raised a hand, and at once the candlelight surrounding her space became flared as if they held branches of wildfire. They made a most powerful and passionate image for the Seeker, as her woman suddenly became visible for every inch of her. The room lit up, clearing the vast space of nothingness between them.

“Cassandra?” Olivia gasped. “What in the Maker’s name are you doing here?!” she waved her hand towards the fireplace on the opposite wall, and suddenly the hearth was alive again. As her hand traveled, the torches attached to the walls all lit up as well. In one moment, Cassandra had breathed life into Olivia’s cavernous habitat.

She then rose to her feet, gathering her gown in handfuls so she could rush to her. Cassandra smiled and leaned off the wall to come close, enclosing the distance between them all the more rapidly. Once she was in front of her desk in the middle of the room, she stopped and awaited her.

“Do I need a reason?” she replied with another question, opening her leather-bound arms and hands to her woman as she leapt into her arms, hugging her with a tightness and strength that only came from the utmost devotion.

“Agh, no,” Olivia said, muffled against her as she hugged her, “but I would have enjoyed the news of your upcoming visit. It would have made this week much easier on me.”

“My apologies, Mistress Enchanter,” Cassandra took in the smell of her hair as she rested her cheek against her head. The smell may have changed along with many things in the 3 years since the Exalted Council and the disbanding of the Inquisition, but certain things were constant: she would never not love the way Olivia looked, sounded, felt, or smelled.

Olivia groaned with comical aggravation. “Forgiven, Seeker.”

Cassandra grinned and pulled away to look at her again, her hands resting on Olivia’s upper arms. Her face enlightened by the fire surrounding them, the way her honey eyes reflected their warmth in their coloring. Olivia was now approaching her 31st year of life, and her age and intellect were now beginning to express themselves in new, beautiful ways on her face: the wisdom in her eyes and the more angular dimensions of her chin and jaw as the youthful suppleness had begun to cede.

As Olivia stroked the side of Cassandra’s hair, noticing the grey strands and adoring every single one, they exchanged looks of appreciation that they were able to witness each other grow older, even if it was a year-by-year gratuity.

“I have missed you with every inch of me,” Olivia said, gripping her hands onto the collar of Cassandra’s armor. Not waiting for a reply, she leaned in and kissed her sweetly, making up for lost time. The Seeker returned her energy, her hands shifting upwards to cusp either side of her face.

“And I, you. I am afraid I must further test your patience for surprises. If I asked you to come with me without telling you where we are to go, would you follow?”

Olivia tilted her head, a brow raising in curiosity. Though, seeing the hopefulness in Cassandra’s eyes, she was a fool for her.

“Cassandra, if you asked me to swan-dive into the Amaranthine with a block of stone tethered to my ankle, I would do so and laugh,” she replied. “I just hope this is not out of danger or to avoid some evil.”

Cassandra smirked, taking hold of her hand. “Not at all, except perhaps the dangers of a romantic heart. Come, we have not much time before dawn.”

\--

Their walk together down the stairwells and corridors of the College were quiet, but once they were out in the quaint gardens and then eventually out into the city streets, they became livelier in conversation. Catching up, exchanging details that had been sent to them in letters from their friends and allies. The Inquisitor and Lady Montilyet had settled in well in Antiva, newly married the year prior. Veronica was growing into her role at the Divine’s service, and Naomi was handling herself back home near Redcliffe. Dorian was still sending letters ever so often, even as his position as Magister was under frequent, life-threatening risk with the war.

Everyone else from the Inquisition days was, to their knowledge on this day, alive and up to their ambitions. That meant that, for at least another day, they could simply be themselves.

Walking hand-in-hand towards the promenade along the docks, Olivia’s typical boredom with the Capitol was reinvigorated by having Cassandra as company.

“You keep gazing at me as if I am a flighty bird ready to take wing,” she teased as they came to stand near the railing overlooking the water.

Cassandra chuckled, letting go of her hand but standing near her, her nerves beginning to ebb and flow under her skin. It didn’t help that Olivia knew her better than most any topic, and considering her expansive intellect, that was impressive to say the least.

“I am merely distracted,” she replied.

“This is not your first visit to see me, Seeker, I know what it is to have your presence and not all of your mind. However, you usually tell me what is keeping your thoughts.”

Cassandra took a breath and looked out to the water, the darkness of it under the opaque depth of night. Such sights mirrored memories she would rather not relive, but nonetheless, she was thankful for the privilege of being able to see such a sight at all. Every aspect of the Maker’s creation was to be appreciated.

“I have a surprise for you, and I am not sure yet whether it was the best idea I have ever had, or the worst,” she admitted aloud, holding her hands behind her back.

Olivia smirked and turned to lean back on the railing, her hands gripping on the edge. Her black gown’s matching cloak and hood was warm enough to withstand the marine layer cold, but she still felt a nervous chill as she looked back at her woman. Cassandra was in a most unusual form this time, and it made her fear the worst and expect the best at the same time.

“And what does this surprise entail?”

“That you come with me to where I have reserved quarters, in the city center.”

“You, staying in the city center? Cassandra Pentaghast, have you come to me in the form of a desire demon wishing to consume and co-opt my magic?”

“I have not…!” Cassandra stopped herself and exhaled. “It is not unheard of for me to do so. I used to be very familiar with the area when I served Divine Justinia. I simply prefer more privacy that what the center of the city allows.”

Olivia stifled a laugh and broke away from the railing she had perched on. Wishing to smooth over her lover’s nerves, she reached and rubbed her armored arm.

“Steady, Love. I am only trying to make you laugh. Take me to your illustrious holdings, if you so wish. I will not make fun.”

“Good, because this has taken a great deal of discretion on creativity on my part.”

“I imagine, if you are willing to slice through the marble with those focused eyes of yours,” Olivia reached and stroked her lover’s cheek, a warmth in her hands she was manipulating herself with her own magic to deliver a comforting touch. Cassandra gazed at her and could not keep the pride brewing in her chest to save her life. Olivia was a master of softening those around her.

“Everything is possible. Let us go,” she beckoned, once again taking hold of Olivia’s hand.

\--

They walked together back from the docks into the city square, wherein the more populated areas of gathering and socializing meant they had a shallow audience. Of course, after a few years, their interludes were hardly objectively surprising – Orlesian nobility simply never got bored of them, though, and it graded on both of their nerves in different ways. Eventually, though, the found the rather nice inn where Cassandra had put herself up for a night, presumably for the specific purpose of whatever the surprise was.

Leading her woman down the corridor which was lavishly decorated with end tables, portraits, and other staples of Orlesian décor, Cassandra had grown quiet with focus. The closer they became to the surprise, the more nervous she felt, and the more pressure she put on herself to get everything right. The Inquisitor had provided enough coaching via personal letters to help her gain the courage, but when it came to the actual moment of truth, there was no one to cheer her on or be her exterior navigation. She would have to pull this off solo, and for the heroine she had proved herself to be, some tests of courage were still terrifying.

Now at the tall double doors of her “suite,” Cassandra turned to face her.

“I keep deliberating on whether or not to have you cover your eyes again,” she grinned, recalling the first night she ever surprised Olivia with something romantic and gallant.

Olivia, coming to stand at her side, giggled a bit as she remembered how much it annoyed her to be kept out of the loop. “You would prove yourself to have learned nothing about the way I work, then.”

“Which is precisely why, my Lady,” Cassandra took a step back and gathered her arms behind her back, “I will allow you to have the honors of opening your own door.”

Olivia narrowed her gaze with suspicion, seeing her back off and give her the floor. “Tell me, have you brought a dragon for me to fight?”

“Of course not. I would be so unfair to the dragon’s chance of survival,” she played in return.

Olivia chuckled, rolling her eyes as she “dusted” off her hands. “Fine, then, whatever beasts or monsters lay beyond this door, let it be known to all who worry that it was Seeker Pentaghast who introduced me to my demise!”

Wasting no more time on ceremony, she placed her hands on the doorknobs, and with one energetic shove, she blew both open wide. Beyond their barrier, at first she saw the generous light of candle fire that soaked the room from marble floor to decorated ceiling. Bunches of simple, white wax candles were placed all over, freshly lit and ready for extended usage. Olivia’s eyes widened along with her parted lips as she took her initial steps into the spacious suite.

As she explored a bit, she saw that a large object was cloaked with a large blanket in the middle of the room, clearly out of place and not meant to go along with the furnishings. She focused on it, her curiosity tempting her to run and yank off the cloak at once. But, patience brought her back to her center.

She turned around and began walking backwards towards it, staring at Cassandra who remained in the doorway, her hands still behind her, standing ready and attentive.

“What on Earth have you been up to in those mountains, Seeker?” Olivia said with a laugh under her breath.

Cassandra grinned, but did not respond. Something in her told her to wait it out and allow Olivia to fully realize what was all before her. Women like her did not need permission or guidance for their next steps in situations – often, they were already three miles ahead to begin with.

Her hunch proved vindicated when Olivia at last turned back towards the mysteriously shrouded object. Her eyes glimmered with anticipation – gifts like these were not common, and when they did occur, they were positively shocking. She stood in front of it and reached for the thick, woolen fabric, clutching it but hesitating at first.

“Wait a minute,” she said, and at last pulled the sheet off from what it had been hiding. She tossed the fabric to the side on the floor, her eyes widening to the size of planets. She took a step back, speechless.

For, underneath the blanket, there was her work desk from Skyhold: its old, uneven wood surface having been sanded down and rejuvenated. The edges, which had been sharp and splintered so much that her dresses would catch on them and snag holes, were also sanded down to smoothness. Underneath, though she could not see, the nails and metal rods keeping it together had been replaced for longevity, and one of the uneven legs had been replaced with one of equal size with the others. The desk that she had poured her heart and soul all over for the sake of a cause bigger than herself, and bigger than the world. The desk that was her salvation for her identity and her sense of purpose. The desk she had to leave behind when the Inquisition disbanded and moved out of the Fortress once and for all, told by others that she had much better furnishings awaiting her for her new occupation.

She had only ever lamented about wanting this old, rotten desk to one person out in the open – the person who stood behind her, watching her unveil and be reacquainted with it after years of believing it lost forever.

Olivia had put both hands over her mouth, not taking her eyes off of it. It looked positively beautiful, the way it always was to her, but now in full objectivity.

Cassandra smiled, unable to keep the glee she felt at pulling this all off from being expressed. She stepped forward, now, still keeping her admiring distance.

“I had some trouble securing and transporting it from Skyhold, but once I had managed it, I had it sent to Thom Rainier so that he could work his skills into renovating it. Unfortunately, when he reported to the Wardens for duty, it remained shelved for some time unfinished. I received a letter weeks afterward from a friend, who offered to finish the project on his behalf. I agreed, and it was sent to me within a fort night.”

Olivia did not move, though she listened keenly. Blackwall, who had come to be known as Thom, was darling to her during their days in service to the Inquisition. Often he would keep her company when she would wander down to the barn, wishing to get away and take cover from the rambling Templar recruits sparring. Whilst she hid from their gaze, he would offer her a drink, or a blanket to keep warm by the fire. His status being missing for some time made her heart ache, though she had not given herself time to lament.

She stepped closer to it, reaching her hand and letting her fingers touch the smooth, finished edge of the surface. He had touched this grain, he had worked on this for her. Perhaps life’s way of giving her a parting gift, and returning to her a piece of her past that she thought gone.

“It…” her voice was brittle as she tried to respond “It is the most beautiful thing.”

Cassandra’s chin lowered as she watched her stroke the table with her hands, the hushing sound of her skin against the smooth, oiled wood sending her back to their days at Skyhold. While the nature of the war meant many things had to be let go of, sometimes sentimentality could be acted upon and vindicated.

“Cassandra, you went to this much worry for my simple little desk?” Olivia at last inquired, her eyes scanning every little detail of discoloration and grain path.

“I went to the trouble, not just for the desk, but for what it represents. You, finding your place in a movement and proving yourself.” She began to circle around the other side of the desk, slowly walking around the perimeter as she looked at her with love. “You, dedicating countless hours of your time and energy, oftentimes with little appreciation. You allowing yourself to become who you were meant to be.”

Olivia kept her eyes on the table, but the words in Cassandra’s response were provoking tears to well in her eyes. She remained quiet whilst the flood prepared itself.

Cassandra stopped, then, and stood on the other side of the desk, a couple yards from its edge.

“This desk is an artifact of your rise, evidence of your glory. It helps to tell the story of one of the most selfless, talented, and capable Mages of our Age, someone whom the next generation will look up to when their time comes to be the ushers of change.”

Olivia let out a huff of air, her hand going to her eyes as she wiped away the overwhelming tears gathering. A sweet, awe-struck smile was on her face.

“You have done many an extraordinary thing, Cassandra, but this…you have outdone yourself this time.”

Cassandra smirked, bringing her arms around and folding them smartly.

“Two years ago, I foolishly confessed to a dream of mine. I did not yet have the proper words to convey what I meant, nor did I do it in the way I had envisioned. You said your peace and we compromised as we have always done, even when we have differing opinions. Now, Olivia, all that I ask is that you do as you did several years ago the first time, and humor me whilst I take initiative in an area I do not have expertise in.”

Olivia’s face looked up to stare back at her immediately, her lips remaining parted in a soft “O” shape. She new exactly what Cassandra was referring to, and the memory made her heart skip a beat. She let out a shallow breath, not wishing to make noise that would interrupt.

“Olivia,” Cassandra continued at last, taking another step forward, “if you can redefine what it means to be a Mage, temptress, apothecary scholar, assassin, Orlesian, and rebel, you and I can redefine what it means to be joined together in the Maker’s eyes.”

Olivia’s shoulders tensed. “My Love…”

“I know. I know you think it arbitrary and stifling. I know nothing makes you more uncomfortable than to have everyone stare at us whilst we say the vows you had been trained to revere at the expense of all other aspirations. I know you detest the institutions that reinforce its weight, and the business which it enacts between those most unjustly enriched in society. But, Olivia, even the most boorish traditions can provide opportunity to reimagine the way it can be, and perhaps even return it to the way it was originally supposed to be.”

Olivia felt like her tears were the only thing lively about her. She quickly wiped her face again with the side of her wrist, sniffling as she inhaled air back into her lungs.

“You would marry me, still, after all that has happened? You would marry the woman the Empire blames for your fall from the Maker’s grace?”

Cassandra’s brow furrowed, instinctively annoyed and reviled by the way the Empire and indeed, most of Thedas’ elite gossiped about the one woman who had her heart. It made her remember all that Olivia had to endure whilst she climbed, whilst she worked tirelessly for the efforts that were close to her heart. She was a woman of her time, and she was deserving of nothing less than the love that would crumble stone to dust if she needed it.

Cassandra wanted to be that person for her, forever and always.

She reached across the table, taking hold of her hand.

“Olivia, I wish to spend the rest of my days with the one woman who continues to show me the Maker’s light even whilst she soberingly criticizes his methods and his agents. I desire her because she does not allow for the greed and interests of man to cloud her integrity; she knows no bias, except for justice and kindness. All other interpretations of who she is, and who she has been to me, are nothing.”

Olivia’s chin curdled and at once she began to cry, placing her forehead in her hand and closing her eyes.

Cassandra then guided her with their enjoined hands around the corner of the table, pulling her into a hug. Whether or not this reaction meant yes or no, Olivia crying always meant one thing: she needed to comfort her and comfort her well.

Olivia caved in, burying her head in Cassandra’s shoulder and facing into the crook of her neck as she cried. Feeling her woman’s arms around her, she felt safe to come undone. It was overwhelming – the desk, the collaborative work Cassandra had done behind the scenes whilst Olivia knew nothing, and the reinvigoration of this potential futurity. Olivia was the most stubborn cynic when it came to rites and traditions centered in Orlesian, Andrastian culture. She had long since resigned herself from their embrace, believing that her only true, liberated happiness laid within the margins of society.

But, in this moment, Olivia felt everything get shaken to the core. Cassandra was not asking her to marry her – at least, not in the way this society would read it to be. She was asking for the privilege of enjoining their existences together forever, and marriage was the conduit for new possibility.

In that way, Olivia remembered the one, critical aspect of Cassandra’s character that she did not always take into account: she was no archaic loyalist. She challenged institutions and encouraged rectification of their errors. She wanted to push the boundaries. She was no boring traditionalist.

After a moment, she finally composed herself, quieting down and rubbing her face again with her dress sleeve.

Cassandra pulled back ever-so-slightly to take a look at her and her red face.

“Are you alright?” she asked simply.

Olivia, rubbing her nose one last time to ensure she did not leave her face a mess, nodded once. “Yes, forgive me, I was overrun.”

“Do not apologize. I understand that I was bold.”

Olivia rested her hands on Cassandra’s shoulders, blinking a few times to regain clarity in her vision once and for all. “I will not argue with you on that point.”

She closed her eyes as Cassandra kissed her forehead, feeling absolutely undone with the situation and all that was laid out before her. Cassandra was shooting her shot, and she was going full throttle with it all. If she was going to be shut down, she was going to be shut down whilst swinging.

“I do not know whether to feel accomplished or disconcerted that I have managed to make you quiet like this,” Cassandra smirked, a hand brushing stray strands of hair out of Olivia’s face.

Olivia took a breath. “You know what they say, the worst storms come from a still dawn.”

“Yes, but they also say the storm is necessary in order to know what it is to experience the stillness for all it is worth.”

The remained embraced this way, Cassandra having relaxed and lowered her grip to Olivia’s waist, whilst Olivia stood on her toes. She always did that when she was nervous or eager to be loved in the face of feeling vulnerable. Surprisingly, nothing was more comforting than being held against Cassandra’s armored body – her strength and care imbued with metal and hide. It was a long-tested safe place for her, and she trusted it.

Closing her eyes and collecting her thoughts, Olivia pursed her lips before speaking again.

“I suppose this was all supposed to be in service of a question, and thus I am compelled to answer,” she talked aloud, her Orlesian diction slipping through a bit in the way she instructed the way things were supposed to be.

Cassandra chuckled a little. “You do not have to invest so much labor into your response as I have into my question.”

“No, no, rest assured you will be gifted with those blasted straw men from the sparring ring by tomorrow evening,” Olivia teased, shaking her head a bit.

“Surely, Cullen would be a better recipient of those,” Cassandra rubbed Olivia’s side slowly as she teased the Commander whilst he was not there to be able to defend himself for this protectiveness for the training equipment.

“Agh, you are correct. How daft of me,” Olivia huffed, managing to grin.

A moment of pause, wherein the suspense that had been shelved for Olivia’s crying returned. Cassandra couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t nervous, or resting her joy on whether or not she would say yes. She had orchestrated all of this in order to have the best shot at success, and to show her just how much she meant to her. This was a carefully walked line of honoring her autonomy like she deserved, and staying true to her own virtues.

Well, that, and some advice on how to be theatrically romantic from the Inquisitor and her wife, the former Ambassador. But, the original idea was hers, to be sure.

Olivia at last responded.

“So, reimagining marriage. Do you have the practice to support your theory?” she asked, using her scholarly rhetoric.

“Yes, of course, as I would expect you to inquire. It is as follows: you and I, married privately in a simple ceremony with no nauseating opulence to annoy us. Then, a couple of days to enjoy one another as wife and wife, before duty calls me back to the mountains. We inform our close connections, but let the rest of the world find out on their own time.”

Olivia’s brow raised playfully as she held onto her. “A sound hypothetical experiment, I must say. You have accounted for most variables, except for one.”

“Oh? And what have I missed?” Cassandra retorted with a bit of ego.

Olivia smirked, placing her hand on her woman’s cheek. “I get to wear the most ravishing, opaquely black gown and make whomever is tasked with marrying us faint in shock.”

Cassandra then began to laugh, relieved that her one stipulation was the most glorious detail that would surely be unforgettable. She reached and tightened her hold on her waist, pulling her feet up off the floor and hugging her as she twirled her around. Olivia gasped, feeling the surprise of being lifted, but nevertheless joining in on the laughter. She reached and wrapped her arms around Cassandra’s neck as she felt her gown skirt fly in the air around her feet.

Once she was allowed back onto the ground, she pulled back to look at her again. She then placed her forehead against Cassandra’s and closed her eyes, smiling broadly.

“You were, and always will be, the only person worthy of calling me a wife,” she cooed.

Cassandra smiled in return, brushing her fingers through strands of Olivia’s hair. Feeling imbued with the honor of Olivia’s consent, her heart was racing with wild and reckless devotion.

“I will love you for the rest of my life, and beyond,” she replied. “No one can ever hope to change that.”

Olivia kissed her then, one lingering inhale before she broke her lips away. She gazed up at her, her eye contact fearless and adoring. As she did so, she reached her hand up the center of Cassandra’s chest, stealing into the layers of her collar. She gently slipped her fingers in between the fabric and her skin, finding what she was looking for and expecting to uncover.

Gently, she pulled and revealed her necklace, the necklace she had parted with in favor of Cassandra’s protection of it years ago. The necklace she knew and swore to always be around the neck of her woman.

Revealing it, she grinned, and held it on her fingers.

“No one. Not even death,” Olivia agreed, and returned her lips where they belonged: on hers, without hope of breaking away.


End file.
